The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. Cathy stood in the bedroom hallway in her faded blue bathrobe. The old lady clearly read his state of mind, for the apparently irrepressible dimple peeped out. "Mine died while I was over here. McClintock does it; and he knows why. For a moment he believed this merely a new phase of the dream. “Nothing has happened to Mr.
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